


Home is next to you

by thewolvescalledmehome



Series: Home [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 16:08:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvescalledmehome/pseuds/thewolvescalledmehome
Summary: Second follow-up fic to I'll make this feel like home.Jon goes on vacation with the Starks.





	Home is next to you

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for this taking so long. Between work, holidays, getting two back to back colds, and being unmotivated, this fic took me longer than it should have and is shorter than I originally intended. (But thank god for snow days, right?)
> 
> Thank you all for your patience.

Squished in the backseat between Arya and Sansa, Jon was trying to ignore the fact that technically, this was his first family vacation. He was pretty sure he’d never been this packed in a vehicle before—in fact, he was certain he’d never been in a car with as many people as he was now that wasn’t public transport.

When Sansa had initially told him about their annual family vacation to White Harbor, Jon hadn’t thought much of it. He’d thought of how Sansa had said she was trying to swing a room for the two of them in the cabin they rented. He’d thought about the boat she’d said they rented every year. He’d thought about seeing Sansa on the beach.

The fact that White Harbor was a four-hour car ride from Winterfell didn’t cross his mind. The fact that the Starks were a relatively large family, plus himself, didn’t occur to him. The fact that there were so many preparations before they even left was odd to him.

Jon remembered when he was young, packing was never a cause for excitement. It always meant he was being shuffled to someplace new. Packing for the Starks was different. For one thing, it was an exercise in controlled chaos, as far as Jon was concerned.

For the full week leading up to their departure, someone was constantly looking for some missing item, Catelyn was reminding them to include something, or someone was running to the store for something they forgot to get last time. The last hours were the most chaotic, in his opinion, with errands, last minute packing, repacking, in the cases of Arya and Rickon, and the arrival of their Uncle Benjen, who would be dog sitting while they were in White Harbor.

That was all before the eight of them wedged themselves into the SUV.

* * *

 

After four hours packed in the car, Jon thought his legs felt wobbly. Or, at least he blamed it on the car ride and not the fact that this was his first ever family vacation. He let himself fall behind the rest of the Starks, not wanting to interrupt whatever their routine was.

When the Starks had said _cabin,_ Jon had imagined something small, sometime like what he’d seen on TV and in movies. He did not expect a multi-bedroom house, with a full kitchen, a porch, and a loft.

“This is your cabin?” Jon muttered to Arya, who was dragging bags in beside him.

“Uncle Benjen and some of Dad’s friends would come out when we were younger—back when they could fit us all in two rooms,” she shrugged. “Plus, Mum didn’t like the idea of staying anywhere without a kitchen.”

“Of course,” he muttered, letting her move past him while he came to a full stop just inside the doorway.

Jon had never thought about the Stark’s finical status before—he knew Ned and Catelyn were paying for both Sansa’s and Robb’s tuition, but that and the fact that Catelyn didn’t work were never put together in his mind. But looking around at this _cabin_ they rented every year, Jon realized the Starks must be relatively well off— _at least._

 _Shit_ , he thought, staring at the space, the huge windows, the full kitchen.

“Hey,” Sansa said, popping up next to him and pulling him from his realization. “We’ve got the loft.” She nodded toward the stairs, giving him a look from the corner of her eye. Jon’s realization flew out of his mind as he followed her up the stairs with a fast beating heart.

“They’re letting us sleep in the same room?” Jon asked quietly as Sansa dropped her bag on the floor and leapt on the bed. She patted the spot next to her and he sat on the edge.

“They figure since it’s not a _room_ it’s okay, I guess. And that we’re not likely to _do anything_. ‘Cause it’s not a room,” she shrugged, indicating to the fact that the loft only had three walls. Where the fourth would be was a railing that looked over the living room and the kitchen. Jon thought it was a fair point. With that railing, he was definitely put off the idea by the fact that anything they did could be easily overheard by anyone downstairs. Sansa’s hand creeping up his back beneath his shirt suggests she wasn’t quite as deterred by it as he was.

“Sansa! Come help unpack the groceries!” Catelyn called, effectively proving just how sound echoed with the high ceilings.

“At least we’ll be sleeping in the same bed,” she whispered, her hand leaving his back.

“Sansa, wait,” he murmured, reaching out and catching her hand. He pulled her back to stand between his legs. “I’m excited to fall asleep holding you,” he admitted softly, holding both of her hands. A grin split her face so fully that Jon was half tempted to turn around to see if the sun had suddenly come through the window and make her face glow like that.

“I’m excited to fall asleep in your arms again too.” She leaned down to kiss him, lips soft but with what felt like a controlled heat beneath it. There was a suggestion of more beneath it—but only a suggestion.

“Sansa!”

She broke the kiss then, and Jon opened his eyes in time to see her eye roll.

“Coming!”

* * *

 

That first day, they didn’t do much other than go out to eat after they got the unpacking done. All throughout dinner though, Jon heard the stories of what they would spend the rest of the week doing. The boat, the fishing, and the late night fires.

As much as the idea of being with Sansa in the glow of a fire thrilled him, he couldn’t get his mind off where he would be sleeping later—next to Sansa, for the first time in nearly two months.

Before they’d left for Winterfell, the only nights he would sleep alone were the ones when he had class late, she had class early, or one of them was swamped with homework. The rest of the time, he would either sleep at hers or she at his. He didn’t awake with the pillows bunched next to him, somewhat resembling a body, because he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Before they’d left for White Harbor though, he’d started bunching the pillows in his sleep again. Not because he was lonely, but because he had grown so used to sleeping with Sansa beside him.

When they returned from dinner, Jon was half hoping everyone would suggest heading to bed even though it was barely dusk. To his disappointment though, everyone settled on the porch to play some card game he’d heard about. While it was fun—he thought it was the first time he’d seen Catelyn fully relax in the handful of months he’d known her—he couldn’t help but watch for the weariness in everyone’s faces and hope for the yawning that would mean it was time to go to bed.

It was a few hours later when Sansa leaned her head against his shoulder and yawned.

“I think we’re going to head to bed,” she said, standing and pulling him up with her.

“We’re going to head in too,” Catelyn said, gathering up the younger two boys. Jon was just close enough to Sansa to hear her huff but he ignored it. He thought Sansa was probably hoping that they would have some time alone in the cabin before everyone else went to bed, but he was perfectly fine waiting. He was just excited about sleeping next to her again.

Jon beat Sansa to bed, but he generally did. She had a longer routine than he did. He waited for her under the covers, his body hyper aware. He could hear the water running in the bathroom, the sounds of Catelyn shutting the boys’ door, a whisper of the conversation continuing outside. He thought he could feel each individual thread in the sheets around him. He wondered how his body would react with Sansa next to him again.

When he heard the water shut off, he couldn’t help but sit up in anticipation.

Jon’s blood rushed when Sansa appeared in the doorway, legs impossibly long in her little cotton shorts. She smiled wolfishly before taking two giant strides and pouncing on the bed next to him. She kissed him once—quickly—before sliding in and wrapping her long legs between his. They were chest to chest, nose to nose, both of their heads on the same pillow.

All of the blood Jon had felt racing through his veins rushed down into the same location.

Embarrassed, he tried to squirm his hips away from hers.

“It’s okay,” Sansa whispered, curling closer. “I’m too tired for anything tonight.” Jon sighed, mostly relieved, but he didn’t know how much sleep he’d get with a boner. He also didn’t know how much sleep Sansa would get with it poking her all night.

“Maybe…maybe we could try a different position?” he asked softly, wincing at what it sounded like, wincing in embarrassment at the need of the different position. Sansa immediately removed her legs from his though, without even a suggestion of a giggle.

“Sure, what if you roll over?” she suggested. Jon rolled to his side and Sansa fitted herself against him, her arm wrapped around his waist. “Is this better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, the breath from her nose tickling his neck.

Jon hadn’t been that tired when they headed to bed, but with her body against his and the rhythmic sound of her breathing, he quickly fell asleep in her arms.

* * *

 

Jon was woken up by someone shaking his shoulder. His first thought was that it was Sansa—sometimes when he slept late she would wake him, but even his sleep fogged brain was aware that Sansa generally woke him with kisses, and that he could feel her body pressed to his back.

His eyes flew open to see Robb crouched in front of him, a hand on his shoulder still.

“Robb? Wha—” he mumbled, starting to sit up. It was still dark out.

“Dad, Bran, and I are going fishing. Wanna come?”

“This early?” Jon wasn’t one hundred percent sure he wasn’t still sleeping.

“Yeah. The fish are awake, trust me.”

“What about Rickon and the girls?”

“Rickon can’t sit still long enough to fish. Arya sleeps like the dead—if you want to try to wake her you can. You can ask Sansa. She might come if you are. I’ll meet you on the porch in a few minutes?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jon waited until Robb was heading downstairs to detangle himself from Sansa’s arm and the legs that had wrapped around him.

“Sansa? Darling?” he whispered, kissing her temple.

“Hmm?” she hummed, turning toward him.

“I’m going fishing with your dad and brothers. Do you wanna come?”

“Nah. You go. Have fun.” Her voice was still thick with sleep and her eyes barely cracked. Jon couldn’t help but smile at her. He leaned down to kiss her cheek before sliding out of bed.

Once he was dressed, he sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a stray stand of hair off her face. She had rolled into his spot.

“See you later,” he whispered, kissing her lips this time.

“Love you,” she yawned after kissing him back.

“I love you too.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jon was on a boat—Robb called it a pontoon—with Ned, Robb, and Bran.

“Your mum will kill me if any of you fall off,” Ned started, looking pointedly at Bran. “Don’t lean over the side.”

“Yeah, you’re more important than the fish,” Robb joked, ruffling Bran’s hair.

“Here, Jon, you can use this pole,” Ned said, handing him a fishing rod. Jon took it and held it awkwardly, looking over to Robb for help, but he was busy casting over the side. “You ever fished before?” Ned asked, pausing next to him.

“Erm, no,” Jon admitted.

“Come ’ere, I’ll teach you.” He led Jon to the back of the boat and took the pole from Jon. “There’re worms in there. I’ll show you how to bait it.” Nodding, Jon opened the container and dug out a worm. With surprising dexterity, Ned showed Jon how to wrap the worm around the hook, and cast the line out into the water.

“Watch the bobber. If it goes under, jerk it and start reeling.”

Jon nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the colorful spec in the water and his brain trained away from the fact that that was the closest thing he’d ever had to a father-son bonding moment.

They stayed on the boat long enough that the sky turned from navy to grey to red, orange, and pink, and finally to blue.

By that point it was warm enough that they all shed their hoodies and their stomachs started growling.

“Guess we should head back,” Ned commented when his started growling as well. “We’ll come back out later,” he added, clapping a hand on Jon’s back. “We’ll catch you a fish before we leave.” 

* * *

 

Jon and the Starks quickly fell into a routine for the week they were in White Harbor. He, Robb, Bran, and Ned would wake up early to go fishing, return for breakfast, and then go back out with the rest of the family. The water wasn’t quite warm enough for swimming, not that it stopped any of the Starks from sticking their legs in while they fished. They would spend the rest of the afternoon on the boat and return in the early evening to shower and go to dinner. After dinner, they would sit around the fire pit and hang out until it either got too cold or too late.

When Jon woke on one of their last mornings before leaving, he was surprised to see Sansa leaning over him and not Robb.

“Are you coming with us?” he asked, still half asleep and confused. None of the women had come out with them in the morning on any of the other days. Sansa shook her head, a coy grin lighting her face.

“No. We’re going somewhere else. Get dressed.” Blearily, he climbed out of bed and began searching the floor for his pants.

“You going to tell me where we’re going?”

“No, it’s a surprise,” she giggled quietly, slipping in the bathroom.

Downstairs, Robb and Ned were collecting their fishing gear.

“Sansa, you’re coming with us?” Robb asked, sounding as surprised as Jon had been when she woke him up.

“No, Jon and I are going somewhere else. We’ll be back for breakfast.”

“Be safe,” Ned called as Sansa led him out the front door.

“Ready for a bit of a walk?” she asked as she skipped down the cabin steps. Her enthusiasm made Jon smile.

“Walk to where?”

“Nuh uh, I’m not telling.” She turned, so that she was walking backwards. “You’ll have to force it out of me,” she laughed before turning again and breaking into a sprint, her laugh bouncing around in the still dark of the early morning. Laughing, Jon jogged after her.

Jon easily caught up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and holding her tight.

“Where’re we going?” he asked again, his voice a little more than a rumble.

“There,” she pointed.

They stood on the path that led along the shoreline, near a rocky path that jutted out into the water, at the end of which stood a lighthouse.

“I wanted to show you something,” Sansa said softly. He didn’t know what it was about the way she said it, but he suddenly had butterflies swarming his stomach.

His hand held tightly in hers, they cautiously made their way down the path to the lighthouse. They sky was just greying as they reached the building, and Jon thought he could see the Starks’ pontoon far out on the water. It wasn’t until Sansa led him up to the door of the lighthouse that Jon paused.

“We’re not breaking and entering, are we?” Sansa laughed, pulling a set of keys from her pocket.

“No, I borrowed the keys from the owner. They know,” she assured him.

With an increasing feeling of curiosity, Jon followed Sansa up the spiraling stairs of the lighthouse and out onto the walkway just below the light.

“What did you want to show me?”

“This.”

She pulled him around so that they were to the side that looked out over the sea; that faced the east.

Just as Jon was about to ask, the sky streaked through with a brilliant orange, and stole his voice from his throat. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Sansa’s waist again and rested his chin on her shoulder, loving the feeling of the slight breeze, the sight of the sun rising over the sea, and the sound of Sansa’s heartbeat beside him.

When the sky was bluer than any of the other colors, Jon loosened his hold on Sansa. He opened his mouth again, to thank Sansa for showing him this, but she spoke first.

“That wasn’t the only thing I wanted to show you.” Her voice was soft again, but Jon thought it almost sounded hesitant as well.

She turned slowly to face him, and to his utter surprise, she started to unzip her hoodie.

“Sansa, what—”

His hands caught hers, trying to stop them.

“I know I said not with your family around, but I didn’t mean—”

“Jon! That’s not what I wanted to show you!” she squealed, face flaring red, and Jon blushed in embarrassment as well. “Here, hold this.” She passed him her hoodie before turning back around. Jon tried not to watch too intently as she swept her long hair up into one of her knots, and shrugged off the shoulder of her tank top.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed before he could stop himself. She turned, her chin brushing her shoulder.

“Do you like it?”

“Like—” he repeated, stuttering, until he realized what he was supposed to be looking at.

It wasn’t Sansa’s body, the way it was lit by the newly risen sun. It was dark lines on her shoulder.

Dark lines that formed the lighthouse they were currently standing on.

Hesitantly, he reached out to touch it.

“Did you go back to get it?” he asked softly, tracing the lines with his finger.

“Yeah. I couldn’t get that story you told me out of my head. Do you like it?”

“Of course I do.” Before he could think, he leaned forward and kissed the tattoo.

* * *

 

“We should head in soon,” Robb said. “Especially if we want to beat the rush at the pizza place.”

“We can stay out a little longer. Jon still hasn’t caught anything,” Ned answered, his eyes fixated on Jon’s bobber.

“It’s all right. I don’t—” Jon started, but Ned shaking his head stopped him.

“I told you we’re catching you a fish. We’re catching you a fish. Reel in. Let’s try another type of bait.” Jon started cranking in his line, but not without looking over at the others. Everyone else had pulled in their lines and were just watching him and Ned.

“Really, it’s fine,” Jon shrugged.

“One more cast,” Ned compromised, fixing something other than a worm to the end of his hook. “Now, remember, like I taught you…” Jon flung the line out to the sea, slightly impressed with the ease at which he was able to do it now.

They sat quietly, watching eagerly, Jon and the Starks. Jon could feel the hope coming from all of them, hoping that the bobber went under.

“Oh! There! Did you see that?” Catelyn asked, standing and pointing to his bobber. Jon glanced over at her, and turned back just in time to see it dip under the water.

“I think you have something. Start reeling in,” Ned instructed, standing as well. Heart thumping with excitement, Jon jerked the line and started reeling like Ned had shown him, but this time there was resistance on the other end of the line.

Jon felt the entire Stark family crowd around him, cheering when he pulled the fish out of the water.

Robb grabbed the fish to unhook it while Sansa kissed his cheek and Ned pat him on the back.

“Robb, wait, before you throw it back. Hand it to Jon. It’s his first fish,” Catelyn instructed, pulling out her phone. “We took pictures of everyone with their first fish—Jeyne too when she came last year. Smile.”

Jon did, but it wasn’t the one that jumps to your face every time someone with a camera says smile. It was a softer, warmer smile, like the ones Sansa usually pulls from him, because damn did he feel like he was a part of the family.

**Author's Note:**

> The next fic will be from Sansa's PoV and if I don't have it up sooner, I should definitely have it by the first week of April (because that's when spring break is).


End file.
